When you trek the mountains of Uttarakhand for the famed bursts of colour but you find that the real beauty lies in the journey

We had been climbing a long while: right from Dehradun, stretching ourselves after the train from Delhi, being herded into a car and launched on a road that wound up, up, up, into roller-coaster corners and a bout of unexpected rain.

Our aim was to get to Auli before it was dark. Thankfully, our driver was the standard-issue mountain maniac, so it was only dark for the final hour or so.

By now, the clouds had descended, the air was wonderfully clean. Cue blissful sleep.

Day Two: I jumped out of bed and ripped the curtains back for a grand view of… Oh. A white blanket of cloud; nothing visible beyond 20ft. It was a curious sensation, knowing the mountains are all around, feeling their power, but seeing none of it.

When the elements finally withdrew, the landscape surprised: mystical peaks of granite mimicking a heart attack on an ECG.

We swerved round corners towards the valley floor, past sadhus walking barefoot along gorge roads peppered with rocks dislodged by landslides along River Alaknanda. At Govindghat, our vehicles were left behind, packs and supplies were loaded onto mules. We were to join the thread of Sikh pilgrims as far as Ghangaria, a settlement at the base of the climb to Hemkund Sahib. But from there, we would take a different track, into the Valley of Flowers.

The valley was ‘discovered’ by mountaineer Frank S Smythe and his team in 1931, by which I mean how white people often discover things: blasé shepherds and sages with magic quilts having long preceded them. Over the years, it has taken on legendary status: a spot of rare, mindblowing technicolour beauty. So much so that when I told people in Delhi I was going, there was a sharp intake of breath, a pious hush, as if I’d been granted access to Shangri-La itself. “Have you been?” I asked. “No,” came every reply. “But I’ve always wanted to.” So why hadn’t they?

Perhaps, it’s to do with space and time. Space: even before the ascent to the valley, there’s the 13km trek from Govindghat to Ghangaria, 1.2km as the elevator rises. Time: the only window of opportunity is July to October, when the flowers bloom and the weather (usually) holds.

Photo: Jasper James

We began climbing up a dirt track, eventually curving around the hill to trek along the high edge of a gorge, waterfalls spraying down the opposite side into the Lakshman Ganga (also known as Bhyundar Ganga) below. Our path became paved, dotted with chai shops and dhabas. Sometimes, the steps rose precipitously; sometimes, they levelled out. Chaiwallahs called us invitingly, but we’d barely started.

The first hour was the hardest. We couldn’t predict the pace—we walked too hard too early. The muscles in our legs screamed. We distracted ourselves by talking to our fellow travellers.

And then, the hypnotic quality of travel took over, dialogue slowed and quieted. Whether one wanted to or not, one fell into oneself. It was almost meditation, walking on this curiously empty trail.

Curious, because pilgrims usually fill it to bursting. What happened?

Torrential rain. Last week, it had poured spectacularly, with frightening echoes of the devastating 2013 floods. Another factor could be that some irresponsible news channels had been playing non-stop videos of those fearsome days, scaring people away.

Things were nowhere near that bad: the weather was holding and huge recoveries had been made. But a shadow hung over the trek all the same. Often, we’d see chunks of empty air, cleaved from the mountainside, like a giant had taken a huge bite out of it. Someone said: “There were cafés and restaurants there.” Or: “That was hillside; now, it’s gone.” The path had gone in places; the bridges, rebuilt in rubble, made do the way India does. But the scar tissue was unmistakeable.

After a few hours, we stopped for lunch at a dhaba where, miracle of miracles, they had Maggi noodles! With warm hearts and full bellies, we pressed on.

Soon, what began as a compact party stretched over a kilometre or so, making a mockery of the order this morning for the front and back to remain within 50m of one another. Sometimes, we’d see the tail end; sometimes, it vanished.

It had been seven hours.

Suddenly, up ahead there was a commotion. A silhouette of flowing robes and turban popped over the horizon, bounding pell-mell down the mountain towards us, swinging a long stave about, crazed warrior and stallion at once. We scrambled out of the way just in time to avoid being clean bowled. Beyond, other, saner pilgrims greeted us with laughter. “Sat Sri Akaal, Sat Sri Akaal.” We were almost there.

Our campsite was in a field below Ghangaria. Wild horses wandered nearby. Boots were removed and feet massaged at the altar of the fold-up chair; a prayer said at the shrine of chai. A sacrilegious shot of whisky poured on the sly. The snowy crags of the valley, higher up, were visible through certain gaps, wispy with cloud. Tired, happy, we ate simple camp food and slept early, intending to depart for the flowers at the crack of dawn.

But dawn was when the rain began, big drops on canvas, irregular drumbeats first, pregnant pauses. Then, a steady patter. An informal poll was taken: it was decided that we’d stay in bed another hour.

It was mid-morning by the time we finally crossed the frontier town, the rain hovering just above, taunting us. The business end of Ghangaria saw a smattering of pilgrims being helped onto mules. The rest of the town had the aspect of apocalypse.

At the entrance to the Valley of Flowers was a guard’s hut. A toll was paid, and then, based on rules that we didn’t quite understand, our safety ropes were confiscated. Our lead guide, Bharat, explained that the ropes are for the small glacier we had to cross, but to no avail. We were then grilled on whether we planned to camp (no) or film (yes). Then, there was a discussion about whether it was even safe for us to proceed, given the recent weather.

Photos: Jasper James

But there was a nice big board to examine while we waited, which listed all the flowers that grow here and the months in which they bloom (most would do so next month). But no matter. We were here, this was going to be spectacular.

We got the go-ahead, the journey continued. The first obstacle was a small river with no bridge, just makeshift metal ladders laid across it. Onwards we went, through woodland, down to a much larger river, gushing and foaming from a rocky waterfall, spanned by a pukka bridge. From there, we climbed into woodland again, straight up, zigzagging on ferny switchbacks.

After almost an hour, we emerged onto a ridge, from which we could look down at the gorge we’d left behind and feel good about how far we’d come. And up ahead, the much-anticipated view opened out—to green, wet hills.

There are supposed to be flowers.

Timing. Luck. These things matter—people are still surprised by what Goa’s like in the monsoon. “What? La Plage is shut? The sea is dangerous?”

And these things matter even more up in these mountains, where it takes time to do anything and go anywhere, and where an unexpected turn in weather can be as serious as life and death, or as comical as a Valley of No Flowers.

And now, the sky is darkening and it’s starting to rain again. The shadows and folds smudge and vanish, the crags lose their edges. It’s past midday now. Beyond 12,000ft. Some in our party have sat at the side of the trail in despondent exhaustion. From the far reaches of the valley, waterfalls are forming down the grassy banks. We’re yet to cross the glacier. There’s a basic path across the dirty ice, but it has holes in it where the ice is thin, and to the right, the drop is perilous. In the absence of ropes, we shuffle on one by one, and then, for lack of anything else to do, we just keep our heads down and continue walking.

We cross four rocky rivers in the bowl of the valley. It takes 10 minutes to find a route across one of them: leaping from rock to rock, doubling back, getting stranded between frothing water, wobbling on boulders, finally discovering the right way, jumping to the bank with a splash in the heels.

But when the joy of that success fades, we are wetter than ever. As we eat lunch in the cave-space below a large boulder, our plates become so full of rainwater that we can drink from them. A minute inspection of the ground shows the first shoots of flower. In a couple of weeks, it will be gorgeous here. But we don’t have the time to wait. We have to go back down.

The next morning a decision is made: we are going back to Auli, to salvage something elsewhere.

Our descent is a parody of Werner Herzog’s Aguirre, the Wrath of God. The path is slick and waterlogged. Tentative steps are made, seeking out rocks, but to no avail. Spirits, egos and buttocks are bruised.

It snowed that night in the valley. Down in the camp, there are no heaters, no fires, no place to hang our wet things, nowhere to go, nothing to do. Someone developed a bad cough. The prospect of wearing those sodden clothes again was unbearable. The next morning a decision is made: we are going back to Auli, to salvage something elsewhere.

This is when things go right. The weather is glorious. We trek through the meadows above Auli, on the Lord Curzon Trail, towards Gorson Bugyal. To get here, we have to ride the ropeway. We glide between hulking pieces of metal while our feet dangle above the grassy ground.

The view is spectacular: foreground, middleground, background, wraparound—a widescreen presentation of Uttarakhand. Mountains spread across the sky like a deck of cards, Nanda Devi the ace of hearts. Sufficiently buoyed, we make our way higher, closing in on the treeline of an oak forest. A shepherd and his flock emerge from within; just then, the sun is scrubbed out by clouds and the flock turns into ghostly bells passing through.

Photo: Jasper James

This is peace, this is beauty. No concrete trails, no dhabas and chai shops, no expectations. And flowers. Yes, in the shrouded woodland, roots of colour push up through the ground—patches of yellow, white and purple. Wild strawberries, too.

The acorn-covered forest floor soon gives way to more meadows, and we meander upwards, over rolling hillocks, past boulders and small ponds. There are the discarded bones of dead animals, living flocks of sheep. A light rain falls. Every time we think we’ve reached the top, another hill looms in the mist. A shepherd’s tent appears, made of canvas and tarp, kept up by poles and held down by rocks. The rain is falling harder, so we decide that this is a good time to stop and ask for chai. Our approach is announced by the barking of a couple of Tibetan mastiffs. The shepherd calms his dogs and is happy to provide tea. This is how a fire is lit, and how we come to know the smoke-filled home of Mohan Singh.

He has the deeply lined face of a man who has known the mountains all his life, a face with a touch of melancholy, a calm resignation. Perhaps that’s just us projecting our fantasies. He tells us that for six months of the year, he’s here alone and the other six, he’s with his family down in Chamoli. Sometimes he travels as far as the Tibet border with his flock.

Photo: Jasper James

As we wait for the tea, choosing the rain over the eye-watering smoke, more herders appear around us. A couple from Joshimath passes by, patiently searching for their cows. The woman wears a cardigan and her sari is hitched up around her knees; her husband wears a woollen sweater and carries a great red stick. They touch Mohan’s feet, share a word and move on.

Mohan goes outside and brings the flock from the next hill back towards the tent, where the mastiffs stand guard. When he returns, we drink strong dark chai in tin cups. Strips of meat are brought out of a bag and placed into the flames, on top of the burning coals. Soon, we are eating barbecued goat and listening to the rain as it falls on the tarp, and for a moment, everything is right with the world.

When to go: From July to October, the weather is pleasant and the flowers are in bloom.

Getting there: Fly IndiGo to Dehradun from major Indian cities (stopovers in Delhi from Mumbai and Bengaluru). Take the Dehradun Shatabdi Express to Haridwar, which is the starting point of the trek as offered by most tour operators.

The Valley of Flowers trek can be booked via several travel websites, including Thrillophilia.

Next: Our pick of stays in Uttarakhand:

1/20

Ananda in the Himalayas

Time in the mountains + a luxury spa experience – could anything be more relaxing? The property is set in a 100-acre estate, housed in the palace of the Maharaja of Tehri Garhwal. When here, you have the option to make the great outdoors part of your workout in an open-air yoga session or while out on a trek. But if being pampered is the priority, the spa is a delicious combination of ayurvedic treatments and modern therapies to leave you checking out feeling like your best self. (Website; Doubles from Rs25,500).

Soulitude in the Himalayas

The hills have been known to heal. Give your soul a break from city life when you escape to this verdant hillside near Nainital. Only ten rooms amid mountains that echo with silence, it’s hard to tell which one does you more good. There are sweeping views from your room and meals are in the dining room of the main house, so it’s got a little bit of boarding school meets staying-with-a-rich-aunt kind of vibe. (Website; Doubles from Rs8,000).

Photo: Anshuman Sen

JW Marriott Mussoorie Walnut Grove Resort & Spa

Staying here feels like being cradled by luxury and nature in equal measure. The 100-plus room property gives you no reason to leave – there’s a host of dining options, a spa, a massive entertainment space with bowling alleys and an indoor pool. But those hills are likely to call out at some point and so you might find yourself exploring the walking trails, camera in hand. Make sure you try at least one of the many outdoor dining set-ups that can be arranged on request. (Website; Doubles from INR 20,000).

Shakti 360 Leti

About 8,000 ft above sea level, contemporary design is known by this name. More windows than walls, the minimalist structures are the perfect canvas for the scenery. There are just four rooms here and it's incredibly remote—this is where you go to get away from other humans. Meals are served in a main lounge that you can digest at leisure, while lazing in planter’s chairs. During your stay, pack a picnic at least once and go down to the river to try fishing. (Website; Doubles from Rs2,02,855 per person for a 3 night package; closed during winter).

Te Aroha

Sun yourself in style at this romantic colonial property near Mukteshwar, whose name means ‘the place of love’. Antiques from the owners’ personal collection feature in plush interiors, so you get a Wordsworth feel without the era. Every room is a postcard and with names like Morning Sun and Writer’s Corner, you know exactly what the recommended activities are. At Te Aroha, all are welcome – families and single people alike – who have rooms named for them too. (Website; Doubles from Rs21,750 for a two-night package).

Fredy’s Bungalow

A homestay that’s also listed on Airbnb, the bungalow used to be home to a German expat who arrived in India in 1939. Only 45 minutes from Nainital, the property is part of Itmenaan Lodges and comprises four rooms that come with a living room, library and den, that's perfect for you and the family to spend some quality time together playing boardgames. (Website; Doubles from approx Rs6,000).

The White Peaks

Book this private cottage for a mountain experience that is all your own. The two-room outfit has space for pets but no more. The daily schedule is marked by tea time and how long it takes to get toasty in front of a fire. The rest of daylight hours are for walking, reading and birdwatching. (Website; Full cottage with all meals from Rs3,500 per guest).

WelcomHeritage Corbett Ramganga Resort

Expect ITC hospitality at this 30-room jungle lodge set in 20 acres of the national park, close to Bonkhal. You’ll have access to good food and a pool but nothing that can distract from the outdoors. When on safari, spot elephants, wild boar and jackals. Other attractions include rock climbing, river crossing and rappelling. (Website; Doubles from Rs6,000)

Jilling Terraces

100 acres, an 80-year-old house and views of Nanda Devi – Jilling Terraces is a story by itself. But the reason it was built for is far more poetic. In 1933, a Sanskrit scholar constructed the house for his Polish wife who longed for weather that she was more familiar with. Now, doors are open to everyone looking for a taste of European décor and laidback Indian simplicity. (Website; Doubles from Rs9,000).

Atali Ganga

Basic but beautiful, the architecture seems like a deliberate effort to make sure as little as possible comes between you and the mountains. There are 22 cottages here that overlook the Ganga valley and it's perfect for large groups or families with the range of activities on offer. There’s yoga, hiking and even whitewater rafting. Get a peek of what you’re in for if you decide to brave the waters from Café White Water, that has views of the fierce river. (Website; Doubles from Rs14,500).

The Glasshouse on the Ganges

Just what you should stay in when by the Ganga. It’s not exactly a glasshouse but has massive glass windows for a view of where the river turns course. The fruit orchards of the Maharaja of Tehri Garhwal double as your personal garden and the sound of gushing water fills the air. A super peaceful setting that takes you far from the rest of the world. (Website; Doubles from Rs8,500).

Photo: Devyani Nighoskar

Fortune the Savoy, Mussoorie

Following a classic English colour palette of powder blue and lemon yellow, Fortune the Savoy transports you back in time to its beginnings in 1902. Although started by an Irish barrister, the property is built in an English Gothic style that lends a strong British Raj vibe to the place. Take advantage of the outdoors with football, badminton or a family game of cricket. (Website; Doubles from Rs11,500).

The Claridges Nabha Residence

Amid 13 acres of cedar and silver oak forest lies this pretty property for a gorgeous view of the hills. The central courtyard is where you would go to soak up some peek-a-boo sun. There’s plenty to do indoors as well, like cosying up in the Library Lounge with a book. When you want a break from that, the Victorian bar will be waiting. Raise a toast to the elegant experience you’re having. (Website; Doubles from Rs12,500).

Corbett Riverside Resort

Combine a national park with a river and you get a holiday spot you won’t want to leave. On the banks of the River Kosi, the Mahaseer will be your neighbours as the rest of the jungle waits to be discovered on a safari. Opt for an elephant-back experience and when you return to the property, a delicious barbeque meal and luxury room will help recharge for another day of exploration. (Website; Doubles from Rs9,900 for a two-night package).

Aahana Resort Corbett

Another option to consider in Corbett, Aahana, which means ‘first rays of the rising sun’, is a fully-fitted property that’s perfect for families. Apart from safaris, there’s a massive pool, a separate one for kids that has a mini waterfall and a host of indoor games. (Website; Doubles from Rs11,000).

Jim’s Jungle Retreat

A jungle lodge that brings guests closer to the famed tiger reserve, there are 18 rooms here, against a backdrop of mountains. Count how many kinds of birds you can spot from the comfort of a private verandah. If you’re there in the monsoons, a river that runs through the property comes alive. (Website; Doubles from Rs5,000).

The Terraces

On just five acres, overlooking the Himalayas, is this set of 21 rooms, where on a particularly cold day, usually between December and February, up to 50 inches of snow fall is not uncommon. How else would you fully enjoy the fireplace in your room? When you feel brave enough to venture outdoors, treat yourself to a spa session—warm oils and sauna time is another way to maintain a comfortable body temperature. (Website; Doubles from Rs14,500).

Vishranti

This luxury farm stay with a moniker that means relaxation, is geared toward an intimate nature experience. The food incorporates organic ingredients picked from a nearby farm and you can even get a wicker basket picnic packed when you decide to see what lies beyond the estate. But the rooms scream royal, with four-poster beds in Burma teak, exotic carpets and walk-in closets. (Website; Doubles from Rs7,500).

The Naini Retreat

Think of elegant décor in an old-world stone building. At mealtimes, choose from a varied menu and spend some time at the spa, where essential oils like ylang ylang and peppermint are used. If you decide to go to Nainital, stop by the 18-hole Raj Bhawan course, one of the best in the country. (Website; Doubles from Rs9,000).

Namah

All it takes is a walk through the landscaped grounds here to unwind and remind you of the benefits of being around nature. The premium rooms open out on to the Sitabani mountains and there’s also a huge swimming pool to splash about in. After a safari, maybe sign up for a cookery class (Website; Doubles from Rs12,000).